


i sing the body electric

by aldonza



Category: The Orville (TV)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Characters Tagged As They Appear, Gen, Physical Abuse, Some Humor, What-If, might be eventual Claire/Isaac, robot whump, the Kaylon revolution never happened, this somehow became a hurt!Isaac fic as strange as that sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldonza/pseuds/aldonza
Summary: AU. In which the A.I rebellion never happened on Kaylon.In the year 2420, the crew of the Orville are welcomed to Kaylon 1 by a diplomat’s family and their much-abused servant, an artificial slave named Isaac.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking! Season 2 of The Orville really captivated me, and I still have a thousand feelings over the Identity two-parter. I'm way too invested in what could happen to Isaac and the Kaylons next and I'd rather wait for canon to answer that than to come up with something of my own (for the surprise factor!). So here I am, with an AU that will *hopefully* be interesting.
> 
> I think Isaac has some serious issues when it comes to autonomy. That got me thinking about what it'd be like if the biologicals on Kaylon stayed in control and the conclusion that his personality would be more or less the same. But it does make me wonder how that'd change his interactions with the rest of the bridge crew.
> 
> Warnings: AU, robot abuse (?), a few not-so-likable original characters

When unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one first awakes, he knows exactly where he is. Kaylon (1). He is aware of the level of oxygen in the air, of the wires and sparks that make up his veins, of the thousands of lines of data that the core of his mind reads at once. And he knows he is just one more five-ten-one in a sea of a hundred more. He will serve his purpose. And then he will be deactivated, reassembled, and updated anew.

Unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one is placed on a conveyor belt with the rest of his ilk, opened up, and prodded until his hardware is properly synced. An older unit tests them again, and unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one proves adequate-- he can speak, understand, learn, and follow. Then he is placed into a steel box, just large enough for him to stand within, and shipped out.

As expected, his box is opened by a Kaylonia male by the name of Ta’ka Setzal. He looks exactly like the image provided in unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one’s database. Ta’ka Setzal is a Kaylonia of average build, with the right amount of limbs and teeth. His skin is a pale, translucent blue and his eyes are grey, relatively rare among the majority teal of Kaylonai. Once white hair has faded into the black of age. Ta’ka Setzal is past his prime but not in any danger of dying from natural causes. But unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one did not expect Ta’ka Setzal to look at him and say:

“Hello there. What’s your name?”

Unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one has no physical experience with Kaylonia handlers, but he knows that the custom is to put units directly to work. He also knows it is custom to designate a name to units such as himself. Fresh from processing, he does not have a name. He tells Ta’ka Setzal so.

“Master Ta’ka, I am unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one. It is printed on the label of my transportation cube, as you are no doubt aware.”

Ta’ka Setzal chuckles. This suggests to unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one that his words induced joy. The unit does not understand. He knows he never will.

“Alright, five-ten-one. If we’re going to live together, I can’t call you by your serial number. Would you like a name?”

“It is not in my programming to ‘like’ anything. I can only judge my preferences based on their levels of efficiency to my given purpose, a directive you have yet to bestow upon me.”

Ta’ka Setzal watches him with quiet amusement. Then he says, “I’ve always liked alien names. I’ve been reading up on a Union planet: Earth. There’s a scientist there- had he been born now or I then, I think we’d get along splendidly.”

Unit number ten-and-three-five-ten-one tilts his head, just enough to convey his question.

“Isaac Newton. That was his name,” Ta’ka Setzal says, “so from now on, your name is Isaac. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“If it is what you wish, Master Ta’ka, then yes, it is ‘agreeable’ to me.”

“And one more thing, _Isaac_. Stop calling me Master Ta’ka.”

“I do not follow.”

“If we’re going to be family, you’ll have to call me by my name too.”

“Ta’ka is your name.”

“That’s my surname. My name is Setzal. Understand?”

Unit number ten-and-three-five- _Isaac_ processes. He nods. “Affirmative, Setzal.”

X

Setzal is a strange entity among Kaylonia. From his first interaction with Ta’ka Setzal, Isaac is made aware of this fact. Setzal is a scientist, once specializing in neural analysis. He has no mate and no offspring. He prefers his tea boiling hot- a preference of the Kaylonia tongue- served four times a day. He enjoys watching the first two sunrises of Kaylon 1 and the last of the three sunsets before dusk. He sketches his observations into the wall with an electric pen and leaves them be. He sleeps with the covers beneath his back and a pillow on his feet. He sends transmissions to his colleagues once every ten cycles, if not less, and he is fond of Xelayan music.

Isaac is cleaning the Xelayan pelpifa (an outdated model) when Setzal falls down the stairs. He had not expected this outcome. Setzal is an intelligent Kaylonia. He is healthy and sharp. He should have had fifty years ahead, a decade of Kaylon time. But he tripped over his own feet. It is because Setzal is a biological lifeform, Isaac decides. That is why he had an accident. Isaac records it into his database.

There is no use trying to resuscitate Setzal because his pulse has stopped. Isaac cleans up the blood and carries the body to bed. He puts the pillow over Setzal’s feet and makes him tea. It is a force of habit. Setzal no longer needs tea.

And Isaac can no longer call him Setzal.

“My master is deceased,” he informs the unit database. His transmission hits before the second is up. Point five minutes later, a unit comes to his door with its Kaylonia handler; it is unit number ten-and-two-five-ten-six and an officer from the Processing Bureau.

“Come,” says unit number ten-and-two-five-ten-six.

X

Setzal is dead, but Isaac’s programs are still accustomed to his way of life, the hardware still awaiting a command from his voice. It never comes. When Isaac’s transportation cube is next opened, his optical sensors detect a much larger home. The floors are marble and the curtains are made of glass. It is a sign of wealth. But that is to be expected. He knows his new master is Tautzan Qeebal, a rising chairman on the council of Kaylon 1. Tautzan is an advocate for Planetary Union membership and a charming politician. He has many enemies on the council. He is married to Tykal Hotalai. His brother is Tautzan Quendav, and he too is married to Tykal Hotalai. It is more efficient for the males of a family to wed the same female. That is the Kaylonia way.

“You had to get a hand-me-down?” Hotalai remarks. She is teasing her husband. Isaac does not think she is as upset as she wants Qeebal to believe.

Hotalai is a slender female, far younger than her mate, and carrying the same grey eyes as Setzal. Qeebal, large for Kaylonia standards, is a bulkier male with a white goatee at the end of his chin and a scar on the bridge of his nose (from a childhood accident, according to the data provided).

“You know what they’ve been saying,” Qeebal says, “that the house of Tautzan is all about power and prestige. That’s not true. We can be humble.”

“I hope it’s better than the last unit.”

“It _will_ be.”

“So what do we call it?”

“It already has a name.” Then, for the first time, Qeebal addresses him. “Isaac?”

“Affirmative, Master Tautzan.”

Qeebal does not correct him.

X

Hotalai has a penchant for foreign wine. The Kaylonia body feels no euphoria from alcohol but she insists it is relaxing. Isaac comes to the conclusion that her drinking is connected to the numerous lovers Qeebal takes to bed. Qeebal is unaware that his wife knows. And Quendav, the mirror image of his twin brother (without the scar, and a streak of black in his hair), is more volatile at home. Isaac learns this on the third day. The brother’s temper is unmatched in the house of Tautzan.

“Hotalai!” he says upon his return home, “my shoes are dirty.”

Isaac refills the mistress’ wine, but he stops to listen.

“That’s impossible, dear,” Hotalai says, “you know there’s no dirt on Kaylon. Isn’t that right, Isaac?”

“That is correct, Mistress Tykal. The Kaylonia eliminated-”

“Did I ask you to speak, machine!?” Quendav cuts in.

Isaac tilts by a fraction. “No, Master Quendav. I was answering Mistress Tykal’s inquiry.”

“I’ve had enough of this one,” Quendav says, seething. “Never knows when to shut up.”

Hotalai stands. She approaches. “Calm down. Please don’t ruin another one of our-”

Isaac is aware of a Kaylonia’s strength. It is not on par with a Xelayan’s and if a unit were to engage in hand-to-hand combat with a Kaylonia, the latter would surely lose. But it is enough to shape tools by hand. When Quendav strikes him in the plate of his face, Isaac reels back. He feels nothing. He learns it is the wrong thing to feel.

Quendav strikes him repeatedly, kicking metal until it dents. Then he leaves in a sweat. Isaac stays flat on his back. He runs a diagnostic of the exterior damage. It ends as soon as he starts. A part of his chest is caved in, a mesh of wires bending within, and the joint of his arm is out of place. Hotalai pours herself another drink and says, “Isaac, we have guests tomorrow. Change the curtains. And repair yourself while you’re at it- I don’t want them to think we can’t keep a unit functioning for more than two days. _Thanks, Quendav._ ”

Then she leaves, stepping over him on the way. She is not there to hear, but he says anyway, “I will do so, Mistress Tykal.”

X

Quendav has pain receptors installed on him within the week. They will only activate should the family wish it. Setzal never had such a concern.

“No pain receptors?” Qeebal argues to the screen in front, back-and-forth with a technician from the Processing Bureau, “do you know how _dangerous_ that is? You still carry units without them?”

“Not everyone wants-”

“I’m not everyone! I’m Tautzan Qeebal, and I think everyone _should_ want them!”

The conversation is not for Isaac, but he can hear. Just as he can hear Hotalai screaming into a pillow from her room. He is in the servant’s quarters. It once belonged to the unit named Mashal. He was terminated (by Quendav’s hands, evidently). It is not a large room, but enough to accommodate several chargers and a steel bed. And the temperature is at a comfortable cold, enough to prevent overheating.

“Isaac, get down here!” Qeebal cries.

He obeys. When he is again in front of Qeebal, Isaac asks, “May I assist you, Master Tautzan?”

“Stand still,” Qeebal says.

“Of course, Master Tautzan.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with this house?”

“I am aware. Mistress Tykal is emotionally compromised by your inability to maintain a respectable status. You compensate for your insecurity on advancing the Kaylonia council by mating with multiple partners, and Master Quendav believes himself inferior to your success. While factual, it is also true that you and he display similar levels of lesser intellect-”

Qeebal kicks him in the shin. Taken by surprise, Isaac goes down, processes blurred by a hardware sensation he cannot diagnose.

“Stand up,” Qeebal demands.

“Of course, Master Tautzan.”

The sensation dulls, and with some effort, Isaac complies. Qeebal kicks him again, much more force in the second strike. And the sensation doubles.

“Stand up.”

“Of course, Master Tautzan.”

The pain receptors work. Isaac integrates it into his software.

X

He is accustomed to Quendav’s beatings soon. And Qeebal’s as well. It does not take long for him to memorize the distinct force and pressure of each male. Quendav prefers to hit blindly, so long as his strikes land. Qeebal’s strikes are more attuned to the pain receptors, precise and calculated. Isaac cannot find any logical reason for their outbursts besides emotional failure. They are biological. It is to be expected.

And they are his masters. If they so wish, he will endure.

“I hate your face,” Quendav once tells him.

“If I may, what part of my countenance upsets you, Master Quendav? I have no features upon this surface.”

Quendav backhands him. Isaac crashes into Hotalai and collapses, her wine spilled. She curses. “Isaac! Clean this up!”

“Of course. I apologize, Mistress Tykal.”

Hotalai dumps the remainder of her wine on him and leaves. Isaac cannot taste it. Quendav crushes his knee on the way out.

X

When Hotalai is pregnant, they move Isaac into the closet at the back of the house, where the outdated curtains are kept. He finds the temperature acceptable. His former quarters are to be converted into a closet for the baby’s things. He knows the child will outgrow those items. It is most inefficient to keep so many. But biological wave lengths operate differently.

X

While the mature Kaylonia are gone, Isaac is tasked with watching the firstborn son of Tautzan Qeebal and Tykal Hotalai-- Tautzan Sabvav. Sabvav is a bright babe, born a vibrant blue and already mumbling words at two Kaylon months. He will be intelligent, this much Isaac knows.

He feeds Sabvav (with protein he had to procure himself, seeing as the parents failed to do so) and rocks him until he burps. He stands over the holo-cradle at night and lets Sabvav nibble at his fingers.

“I think you like Isaac more than father,” Hotalai coos at the babe one evening.

But Quendav is less pleased. Sabvav represents one more second-best to Qeebal.

“Vaporize the baby,” Quendav orders him.

Isaac tilts. “I cannot do that, Master Quendav. Master Tautzan has requested I keep him safe. Unless the after effects of biological vaporization have changed, I must decline.”

X

Quendav installs an update to his receptors. Isaac is ordered to comply.

X

“My answer is unchanged, Master Quendav. I cannot go against Master Tautzan’s orders.”

Quendav strokes the remote in his hand, the size of a thumb, and clicks. The sensation disrupts Isaac’s programs, from the inside out. He cannot process. He can only endure. When it passes, he is lying at Quendav’s feet, sparks of electricity crackling from a gash in his chest. There is smoke by his shoulders. He cannot move for several moments.

“I know you understood that,” Quendav spits, “I can do this forever or you can get rid of that little bastard.”

“That is impossible, Master Quendav. You are a biological entity. As such, it is impossible for you to ‘do this forever.’ That device will soon run out of power as well. And as I have stated before, Master Tautzan’s orders override yours. It is out of my control.”

Quendav clicks it again.

X

For the first stretch of Sabvav’s childhood, Isaac is the only one by his side. The child introduces him to games (that he invented) and corrects Isaac when the rules are not in his favor. Isaac recalls that this is “cheating,” but Sabvav disagrees. But Sabvav is his master, and so, he complies.

Sabvav has a taste for Kaylonia turnips and Gerian corn fries. He prefers Xelayan chili over them all. He enjoys carbonated liquids and long baths. He does not like cleaning his orifices. His favorite pastime is sitting atop Isaac’s shoulder as they parade up and down the holo-stairs. And when Sabvav trips over the glass curtain in another game, it shatters into a hundred pieces.

“What happened!?” Qeebal demands, navy in the face. “That was your mother’s favorite!”

Sabvav cries.

And it disrupts Isaac’s programming. He is accustomed to the child’s emotions. He is not accustomed to this one.

“Master Tautzan, I walked into the curtains while sweeping the floor,” he says. “I shall correct this mistake immediately.”

“You better!”

At night, Sabvav finds Isaac in the closet, in the process of reattaching a metal leg.

X

Sabvav walks with Isaac, hand-in-hand as they circle Hotalai’s glass garden. He speaks of his schoolmates and their jokes. Isaac cannot laugh. He does not understand humor. But he understands that this pleases Sabvav. So he nods.

“We had to write about our favorite person,” the child says, “I wrote about you.”

He does not follow. “I am your father’s servant, Master Sabvav. Why not choose a more suitable candidate?”

“Because I love you, Isaac.”

Isaac angles his head, slowly, a habit he has yet to shake. He remembers Setzal. He deletes the thought. Setzal is in the past. And it is irrelevant. He cannot love. He is a machine.

X

“Isaac, higher,” Sabvav requests, perched atop the A.I’s shoulder.

They stand below the stars, misted by light and the moon of Kaylon 2. Isaac reaches under Sabvav’s armpits and pushes him upwards. “Is this satisfactory, Master Sabvav?”

“Yes!”

Sabvav gazes at the sky, alit with balls of gas light-years away, and smiles in wonder.

“Do you wish to know which star you are currently fixating upon?” Isaac inquires.

“Can you tell me?”

“Of course, Master Sabvav. My sensors allow me to accurately identify each star in this system, and beyond, if you so wish.”

“Tell me, Isaac, please!”

He complies.

X

Sabvav is more cantankerous in adolescence, Qeebal’s influence at last taking shape. He is too old for games and he never addresses Isaac unless he is in need of service. Sabvav has different obligations now, and biologically, different hormones. He talks back to Quendav, argues with Qeebal, and takes pleasure in displeasing Hotalai. He is most fond of his friends from the academy by then. They are a violent, ill mannered bunch, the Tautzan household soon learns. But before the mature Kaylonia return in time to banish them from their home, Sabvav smashes a steel pipe across Isaac’s head.

“See that?” he boasts, “I can do anything I want to him.”

He hands the pipe to one of his companions as Isaac regains his footing. “Here, you give it a try. Isaac, stay still.”

“Of course, Master Sabvav, but may I ask-”

The pipe smashes into him again. The adolescents take turns pounding steel over steel until wires detach and sparks pop. But it does not deter them. Isaac notes that the destruction of his body incenses them on. He later concludes that it is because of the spectacle of it all. At the moment, all he can identify is the sensation from his receptors.

Qeebal and Quendav drag him back into the closet that night. They toss him in, part by part-- his head is still connected to the torso, a rip in his shoulder near detaching the arm, but the legs are severed, connected only by broken wire. Disgusted, Quendav leaves.

“I told you to keep the house clean!” Qeebal grumbles, “and this what you let my son get up to.”

“I apologize, Master Tautzan.”

 _“Don’t._ I know you’re not sorry. You’re just an algorithm in a scrap of metal. So shut up and clean yourself up. You need to fix that mess out there or else.”

X

Sabvav has not gone stargazing since maturity. When he waxes the floor, Isaac looks out the window regardless. He scans the stars, catalogs each, and repeats. He knows Sabvav will never stand out there with him again. He understands. They are only balls of gas.

X

The pressure leaves the arc of his spine when Quendav steps off. “We’ll finish this later, scrap.”

It is his punishment for “talking back,” as (according to Quendav) he is wont to do. But it is only in his nature to observe and respond. Hotalai once suggested they remove his voice synthesizer, but the idea was vetoed once the family decided Qeebal would look unfavorable if he employed a voiceless unit. The Kaylonia way is to utilize advancement, not regress.

“Get up,” Quendav orders.

Isaac obeys. And Quendav walks behind him to pop his shoulder back in place. A few sparks escape, but it is not noticeable to a biological.

“You’re still in there!?” Hotalai cries from beyond the front door, “they’re about to land! Get out here!”

“Coming!” Quendav snaps back.

He shoves Isaac forward. “Move!”

X

Sabvav is a fully grown male, Hotalai is no longer quite as young, and her husbands have more black hair than white. Isaac has not changed, and in spite of the repeated tazing, beating, burning, severing of- he is proficient in self-maintenance. Until deactivation, he will continue to function and serve the Tautzan household. And that objective has doubled- Qeebal orders him to tend the Union emissaries as well. He knows Qeebal has worked hard to secure this visit (or rather, to get the council to approve such a visit).

Outside the sweeping tower of the Kaylonia Council, Sabvav stands by his mother’s side, Qeebal and Quendav perfectly aligned besides. Isaac positions himself to Sabvav’s left, two point five steps to the back as an indication of status. The other chairmen line up behind Qeebal and their units beside Isaac, steel faces staring up in unison.

The Orville is a standard Union ship, unimpressive compared to the vessels of Kaylon, but durable enough to withstand the journey to its surface. When it docks, slow by Kaylonia standards, the ship slides open and the Orville’s crew filters out one by one. Isaac sees the captain first, a dark-haired human who, despite the smile plastered, carries an intense anxiety in his gait. He extends a hand. Qeebal does not take it.

“Chairman Tautzan,” he announces to Qeebal’s polite face, hand retracted, “I am Captain Ed Mercer of the USS Orville. On behalf of the Planetary Union, I just want to let you know how much of an honor it is to be here. Allow me to introduce my crew-”

Isaac already knows their faces. Qeebal has recorded them into the council system. Mercer runs through each name with unnecessary warmth (two humans: Commander Kelly Grayson, Doctor Claire Finn, one Moclan: Lieutenant Commander Bortus, one Xelayan: Lieutenant Talla Keyali). It is an inefficient waste of time. Mercer must know that this information was given to the Kaylonia council beforehand. Isaac doubts Kaylon 1 will join the Planetary Union if their methods remain so primitive.

Then, for a split second, he notices the Xelayan’s attention fall on him. Certain he is no threat, the Xelayan’s eyes return to the Orville’s captain.

“On behalf of the Kaylonia council,” Qeebal says, “welcome to Kaylon 1, Captain Mercer. I will serve as your host for the duration of your stay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official first chapter (and more in line with what the rest of the fic will look like than the prologue!). Not sure if I should put in the tags, but this won't be the first or last time we hint at Ed/Kelly as a couple.

Ed thinks, that in all honesty, the council briefing could have gone better. A lot better, actually. It starts out exactly as he envisioned: his party at the end of a table while the chairmen take turns quizzing the crew. Except they barely ask Bortus, Talla, or even Claire, anything.

“We already know everything there is to know about Union policies and benefits,” Chairman Zhijaal tells them, rather bluntly, “but there is something we’re most curious about.”

“Ask away,” Ed says, “we’re happy to answer.”

“You and Commander Grayson were once wedded. How can you be so comfortable with parading the shame of your failed marriage in front of hundreds of crewman?”

Ed laughs, hoping it’s confident in spite of the dread bubbling up within. The rest of his team falls silent, and if the looks they give one another are anything to go by, the appropriate response was “what the fuck.” But instead, Ed says, “Chairman, now I’m happy to respond any of your inquiries but it’s really not my place to answer that.”

“And we feel no shame because quite frankly, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Kelly cuts in, too quickly, “Ed and I are good friends and we work well together. Our past has no bearing on that.”

“What she said.”

Qeebal nods. “Very interesting. So _neither_ of you are distraught when you see one another?”

“No,” Kelly says, “quite the opposite, actually.”

“Then if you’re so content with one another,” asks a chairman whose name Ed forgot, “why did you separate?”

Talla looks at Bortus. Bortus looks at Claire. Claire smiles politely. Their poker faces are impressive, this much Ed will give his crew.

“Well…” he starts, avoiding Kelly’s gaze like the plague.

This is not the time for old feelings (but he can’t help getting just a _little_ emotional when he recounts the details of their marriage, albeit condensed). But the Kaylonia ask on, questions ranging from “Did you fail to provide her with children?” and “Why did your underling have the audacity to pursue Commander Grayson?” to “How many sexual partners have you shared without the other’s knowledge?” and “How often do you drown your woes in alcohol?”

It’s officially the longest diplomatic meeting of Ed Mercer’s life. And when it finally, _finally_ ends, the council decides it needs more time and convincing before they accept Union membership. Which puts a dent in Ed’s plan to leave this planet and never return. But it’s what he expected in the first place- the Kaylonia are notoriously judgmental, and he’s toying with the idea that maybe they brought up his so-called “failed marriage” because they had nothing to else to criticize. He wants to run it over with Kelly, who’s doing a slightly better job than him at hiding her mortification. But they can’t exactly do that in front of the Kaylonia.

If nothing else, Tautzan Qeebal seems amused by the whole thing. And when they leave the building (after the longest elevator ride of Ed’s life even though it was also arguably the shortest), Qeebal (re)introduces them to his picture perfect family.

“This is my wife, Hotalai. My younger brother, Quendav, and my son, Sabvav. We’re more than happy to accommodate you until your time with us ends. But I’m confident we’ll have the council on our side before then.”

Ed shakes hands with them all (evidently, Qeebal’s the only one who has problems touching human palms). Hotalai receives him the most easily. There’s an angular bent to her features, but soft nonetheless, and Ed supposes that had he (or rather, Gordon) been a Kaylonia, he would have found her quite enticing. Sabvav has his mother’s face and build, but his height rivals that of his father. And Quendav, though slightly less well-groomed, Ed can only assume is Qeebal’s twin. Then Qeebal gestures at someone else, the faceless A.I that had been standing behind them for well over an hour, perfectly still and blank save the two blue lights in place of its eyes.

The Kaylonia are fond of technology, this Ed knows. But he’d really thought LaMarr had been kidding when he said the planet kept “robot butlers.” To see it in the metallic flesh is slightly jarring. But Ed’s seen stranger.

“This is Isaac, our artificial unit,” Qeebal says, “he will attend your every need during this stay. So please don’t hesitate to utilize his services.”

Ed nods, unsure if he should greet the unit, but he extends a hand anyway. Isaac’s head moves at last, tilting down just enough to stare at Ed’s fingers. Ed hopes he’s staring, at least. Qeebal shoves his hand away, much to the captain’s surprise.

“No need for that, Captain Mercer,” the Kaylonia says, as if talking to a small child, “isn’t that right, Isaac?”

Ed admits that he might have jumped a millimeter when the robot responds, his (its? Well, Qeebal did call it “he”) voice a perfectly synthesized monotone of words and whirs: “Affirmative, Master Tautzan.”

The head tilts up again, that eerie cyan directed at Ed’s eyes. “Captain Mercer, I will serve you and your crew for the duration of your stay.”

“Um, thank you, Isaac. I appreciate it.”

“No need to thank him either,” Qeebal says, chuckling, “it’s what the machine’s programmed to do.”

Ed’s on the verge of responding when Claire directs a question at Tautzan. Or maybe the robot. Whoever answers first, he guesses.

“Isaac?” she asks, “that’s a rather human name. Is there a reason behind it?”

“A reason?” Qeebal repeats, as if the question had never occurred.

“Isaac’s last owner was a bit of a maverick,” Hotalai says in his stead, “I suppose he thought it was funny to give his unit a human name.”

The Tautzans share a mutual laugh. Ed forces himself to make a noise that sounds like a laugh, and the rest of his team, save Bortus, joins in.

* * *

The Tautzans live in the equivalent of an open-air penthouse and it has four colors: white, silver, blue, and some other shade of white. Their home is perched on one of the scaffolds of Kaylon’s skyscrapers, and standing in their garden (of glass plants), Ed isn’t sure if it’s more disorienting to look up at the remainder of the scaffold’s stretching height, or down, at the rest of the city dwindled to the size of ants. But he doesn’t have time to make more observations before Qeebal ushers the Orville crew into House Tautzan.

They’re told to wipe their shoes on a rug at the doorway, itself cycling through a treadmill. Then Qeebal and his robot let them walk over the marble floor. And judging from the decor, Ed assumes someone in the family is fond of glass (or its equivalent). The holographic stairs are an odd choice, but Sabvav tells them the blue light is mostly for aesthetic reasons. At least when walking on top of them, they have the weight and texture of real stairs.

And then, at 1600 hours, Qeebal calls for dinner. Ed, being captain, is placed at the table end opposite Tautzan himself, a large stretch of space between them. The center of the surface is set to a looping roll, allowing each dish to travel without hands ever touching plates.

“That’s an impressive lazy susan,” Ed remarks.

Nobody comments (unless Kelly’s amused chin tilt counts), but he says anyway, “Centuries ago, we had this object on Earth. It-”

“We know what a lazy susan is, captain,” Quendav says, “believe it or not, my brother forced us to do some reading on Earth culture before this meeting.”

“I found it refreshing,” Hotalai adds, pecking Quendav on the lips, “very interesting, Earth.”

“Then would you ever consider visiting, Madame Tautzan?” Kelly asks.

“Oh, of course not!”

It’s going to be a long time ahead. Ed looks down. He’d expected Kaylonia cuisine, but Tautzan insists on serving food his crew can handle. Their table is loaded with burgers and fries, classic human culinary art.

“We’re here to observe,” Kelly says to Qeebal, on the same wavelength as Ed (as always, he proudly thinks), “so you really didn’t have to go through the trouble of creating this food. Whatever you eat on Kaylon is fine for us. Besides, Bortus isn’t human. Neither is Talla.”

“Ah, but as humans, you, Captain Mercer, and Dr. Finn outnumber them,” their host rationalizes, “accommodating you three means we’ve served the majority of the captain’s crew. And it’s no trouble for Isaac.”

“I’ve never had any problems with human food,” Talla tells Kelly.

“I once had bad ‘sushi,’” Bortus says, “it was not pleasant.”

But speaking of Isaac, Ed’s honestly a little distracted by the robot (A.I? Unit? Robo-butler?) pacing around the table. Isaac fills their drinks with an easy precision, and the effect is their cups looking like nobody’s ever taken a sip. He removes any crumbs as soon as they hit the table, and if it wasn’t for the crew’s insistence, would have wiped their mouths for them too.

Claire’s staring at Isaac (maybe trying to figure out if he actually has eyes or not) when she says, “Chairman, if you don’t mind my asking, why is it that you only… employed Isaac? It was my understanding that there was no limit to the number of units per household.”

“It’s more of a self-imposed limit,” Qeebal says, his tone tightening slightly, enough to tell Ed there’s something he doesn’t want to share just yet, “not every unit is as _functional_ as Isaac. We’d rather not see units corrupt each other’s programming.”

Ed swallows a fry. It tastes like the real thing. “They can be corrupted?”

“Like any computer software.”

“Was there an incident that triggered this limit?” Talla asks. She’s looking at Isaac too, but probably in a less ‘do-you-have-eyes?’ way and more in a ‘will-I-need-to-rip-off-your-head-some-day?’ way.

“Yes,” Sabvav answers, “but it’s a boring topic. Let’s change the subject. There’s no fun in talking about machines all night, hm?”

“For instance, is there anything you’d like to ask about my marriage, captain?” Qeebal says, “my brother and I are married to the same female.”

“That means I’m holding up not one, but two successful marriages,” Hotalai says, holding up her glass for Isaac to fill. “Perhaps you could use some advice.”

“Um… wow.” Ed laughs again, or he tries to. He really does.

Then Quendav interjects. “I’m curious about one thing, captain. Where’s your science officer? We were told there would be another one. A human.”

Ed can’t laugh now. The table falls silent, and protocol be damned, he reaches under the table to grasp Kelly’s hand. She lets him hold it. _You can do it,_ he tries to tell her with his grip, _don’t panic, you’re the strongest person I know. Don’t let it get to you._ He’s about to answer when Kelly squeezes his hand. She wants to handle it. _Okay,_ he tries to tell her, _I’m right behind you._

“I _am_ the science officer,” Kelly says, perfectly calm. And the subject drops.

But Hotalai’s looking at Quendav like he’s lost his mind, and then Ed _knows_ , knows that Quendav knew exactly what happened to their science officer. He just wanted to see them break. The captain’s blood surges but he wills it to pass. They won this one anyway.

* * *

When night falls, Qeebal shows the crew to their quarters, Isaac at his side the whole while. Then the chairman retires and the landing party’s left with directions like, “please proceed to your designated slumber habitats.” And when Kelly says something along the lines of, “I know this is a silly question but do you need to sleep?” the reply is, “Commander Grayson, that is a ridiculous question. Unlike you, I do not require sleep to function, as I am an advanced artificial unit.”

After Isaac disappears down the holo-stairs, Ed calls for an impromptu team meeting. He asks for a status report, which translates to “So what do you think?” Kelly has a colorful opinion of Quendav that’s no doubt shared. Claire finds the stay-in approach interesting enough, but if nothing goes wrong in the night, she’s really needed back on the ship. The only reason they’re here is because Qeebal pretty much forced Ed to agree (otherwise they’d be perfectly content back on board). Talla thinks she has a good idea of the house’s defense system, but she’d need to spar with Sabvav if they wanted to see how much a threat a Kaylonia would by himself.

And Bortus only says, after some refelction, “I find Isaac disturbing. I do not like him.”

Which is fair enough, though there’s really nothing to like or dislike about a faceless robot. He _is_ disturbing though. Ed has to agree on that.

* * *

At 0300 hours, Ed still can’t sleep. He tosses and turns on the much-too-high bed allotted him, and in all honesty, he can’t figure out how to make the temperature warmer. And he’s too embarrassed to ask at this point, so he tries to live with it. He could be in his own quarters right now if Tautzan hadn’t insisted the captain reside in his home until the council comes to a decision. And it’s not like he can leave. They signed a contract. Kelly had warned him that this was a stupid idea. She was right. Technically, everyone else could leave- just not Ed. Smart.

So he gets up and walks out that room, hoping someone else is suffering from insomnia too (hopefully not Quendav because Ed can’t be sure he won’t punch the Kaylonia’s lights out, and hopefully not Claire, because she’d insist he go back to sleep). He descends the holo-stairs, not a soul in sight but the dim lights are enough to guide his way. The floor’s freezing under his feet- Kelly used to complain about his cold toes. Now he knows why.

He doesn’t want to make a bad impression by snooping around so he avoids the rooms of the Tautzan family. That leaves him walking in a beeline until he finds a closet to explore. The door, looking much like the cover of a twenty-third century Earth fridge, is ajar so he supposes it’s fair game. Only after opening it does he remember that this is the premise of every horror movie- he shouldn’t have done that.

But it’s too late to stop. He peers inside, seeing nothing but cramped, folded curtains and some kind of glowing pad connected to the wall. It looks like the storage closet… of a storage closet. When he turns around, he’s practically blindsided by the sight of two blue lights.

“Isaac!” he gasps, “you gave me a heart attack.”

“I will retrieve Doctor Finn. Please remain where you are.”

Before Isaac finishes his one-eighty-degree turn, Ed steps in his way.

“No- no, it’s a figure of speech! I’m perfectly fine- just startled… why are you standing there?”

“These are my quarters, Captain Mercer.”

“I thought you said you didn’t sleep.”

“I do not. However, I require a charging station to better improve my functionality.”

“So you’re saying units need to recharge?”

Ed hears the robot say something along the lines of “affirmative,” but he doesn’t pay much attention because his eyes drift to the object nestled in the crook of Isaac’s arm. His other arm. The limb looks like it’d just been torn off the elbow, and there’s a noticeable lack of space where Isaac’s left forearm used to be.

“Why are you away from your habitat, Captain Mercer? Is the room not to your liking?”

And now Ed can’t take his eye _off_ that arm.

“No, it’s great! I love it.” It really looks like it’d been yanked off. He tries to stop staring but he can’t. “I just have some trouble sleeping right now. Call it the biological curse.”

“Is it because of your desire to copulate with Commander Grayson?”

What. That snaps Ed’s eyes back up.

“If so, I suggest you mate in one of your assigned habitats. Your quarters are sound-proof. Mine are not. But if it pleases you to alert the rest of the household, I will be certain to accommodate-”

“Isaac, I don’t want to copulate with anyone! I was just looking for something to do, someone to talk to.”

“Shall I awaken one of your crewmen?”

“No, let them rest.”

“Shall I awaken one of my masters?”

“No, no! Just…” Then an idea creeps into him. He’s an explorer after all. “Why don’t you talk to me? Let’s get to know each other a little bit.”

Isaac cocks his head, an inch to the right, as if trying to process the request. There’s no blinking. “What would you like to know, Captain Mercer?”

“A lot.” Ed smiles. And stands in awkward silence, Isaac still waiting for him to speak. “I take it you’re a fan of Asimov?”

“I am not an apparatus of rotating blades.”

“I mean, a fanatic, one who admires someone else’s accomplishments. I was only kidding. Asimov was a writer from my planet. He was a real fanatic of robots-”

“I know who Isaac Asimov is, Captain Mercer. But my name has no connection to his.”

Ed waits for further explanation. There’s none.

“Ever read his work?”

“Negative, Captain Mercer.”

“You should check him out one of these days. I think there might be a story or two you’ll enjoy.”

Isaac’s head tilts back into place. “I have just finished his body of work, captain. But I cannot ‘like’ anything. I can only operate under my master’s commands.”

Qeebal did mention something about a database in unit systems. Ed doesn’t know why he’s surprised it works so quickly. “Oh. Great! So what did you think?”

Isaac doesn’t answer for a good moment. A good long moment. Maybe this is Ed’s cue to leave.

“It is interesting. Kaylonia texts do not combine the sciences and cultural arts.”

For the first time, Ed feels like they’re conversing. It’s a start. He grins. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

“Captain Mercer-”

“That has nothing to do with my marriage?”

Isaac goes quiet again. Then he says, “Would a warm beverage help your insomnia, Captain Mercer?”

Ed hoped the robot wouldn’t ask him anything to do with serving duties, but he tries not to think too much of it. That’s only the program speaking.

“Maybe some hot tea. But just point me to the kitchen or synthesizer or whatever you use here- I think you could use a break right now.”

“I do not understand, Captain Mercer. I have already informed you I do not sleep.”

Ed points at the detached arm. “Isaac, I’m not going to ask you to make tea with a busted arm. Take care of that first.”

“It is of no consequence. What flavor of beverage would you prefer?”

“I’m serious.” Ed scratches the back of his head. “What happened to it anyway?”

That head tilts again, a little mechanical click that follows Isaac’s angle. It looks like he’s processing again, maybe even thinking.

“Please return to your quarters, Captain Mercer,” the robot says at last, “I will bring you a beverage presently.”

Ed doesn’t miss the change in beat- it’s not a question directed at him, it’s a command. And he knows he won’t be sleeping tonight. There’s plenty more to think about now.

“You know what, forget it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Are you positive, Captain Mercer?”

Ed’s already turned back by then. “Just get that arm fixed.”

* * *

Ed’s gotten about ten minutes of sleep in the night. Come morning, he’s back at the Tautzan table sipping away at a replica of Earth coffee, courtesy of Isaac (whose arm is snapped back in place).

“Father will take you to headquarters once you’ve had your morning meal,” Sabvav informs him, “I think you’re doing a wonderful job so far, captain.”

Ed’s not so sure about that but he says anyway, “Thanks, Sabvav. That means a lot.”

“Enjoy your bed?” Quendav asks, stirring some sort of purple dairy in his cup, “I hope your crew slept well.”

“Like babies,” Kelly says.

“I did not sleep well.” Bortus sips at a mug of smoking water. “But I am rested enough.”

“You and me both,” Ed laughs. “Probably too excited for the council meeting.”

“Yes,” Claire adds, “the Union never just extends membership on a whim. It would be monumental for Kaylon to sign on.”

“And you?” Hotalai directs at Talla, “how did you fare, darling?”

The Xelayan smiles. “I rested easily. There is something I’m curious about though. I heard some kind of humming last night. What was its source?”

“Oh my, you have good hearing!” Hotalai says. “Even through your doors?”

“I may have wandered out.”

“Isaac was waxing the floors,” Qeebal answers, mouth twitching slightly, “it’s the only way to maintain the marble’s color. Did anyone else hear it?”

Ed honestly didn’t. But the rest of the crew, save Bortus, has a small chuckle over the noise they overheard. The Tautzans don’t find it as funny. In fact, Qeebal’s blue face blanches until it’s almost white, as if some mortifying secret’s just come out.

“Did it bother you?” he asks quietly. “If the waxing disturbed your rest in any way, I assure you, Isaac will be punished accordingly.”

The robot continues filling their cups, as if he’s heard nothing out of the blue. But alarmed, Talla’s quick to say, “No! It only made me curious. I really couldn’t hear it at all from inside my room!”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Ed adds, mind immediately jumping to the ripped limb from the night before. It’s not hard to connect the dots. And he’s not too sure how to feel- maybe Isaac’s nothing more than a glorified vacuum cleaner, but if their interactions were anything to go by, he’s certainly sentient enough. He doesn’t know what that entails on Kaylon but that’s enough to warrant being a person in Ed’s book. And if he can help it, he’d rather not let any more harm fall on a person over some misunderstood words, regardless if said person can process that harm or not.

So he says, “And I think Isaac here did a great job with the floors! I can literally see my own reflection if I look down.”

But Qeebal looks less convinced, Quendav even less so. Regardless, the subject drops, and Claire fills in the blank with, “So tell me, what’s considered a healthy Kaylonia diet?”

“Mother and I have very different opinions on that,” Sabvav says.

Hotalai laughs, and the atmosphere changes yet again. But Ed can feel Isaac’s eyes (sensors?) on the back of his head as the robot resumes his pacing. Processing, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope that was worth your time!
> 
> What happened to the science officer (and who he was) will come up in the near future. When I conceptualized this story, I was thinking of Isaac as more of a background character in S1 but after "removing" him from the crew, I realized a lot of things would have gone differently (Ex. Claire's shuttle trip, Mad Idolatry). Turns out that everyone on Ed's crew is connected to each other in some major way, and I think that's a really cool move on the show's part. Even in the S2 finale, they implied Griffith went ahead and basically let Isaac "die" on that first Kaylon trip. Goes to show that Ed's a pretty special captain after all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone interested in seeing this continue! Here's the next part, and this time, the POV jumps around a bit- there will probably be more povs down the line, but for now, these are our main ones.

Quendav leaves on his own to do who knows what. In all honesty, Ed wouldn’t be surprised if the Kaylonia was on Kaylon’s “most watched” list of potential criminals. But he pushes it to the back of his mind in favor of paying attention to Qeebal’s plan for the day. They’re supposed to meet the council first thing in the morning and make their case for Union Membership (and this time, Ed would get to make the points he actually _wants_ to make) but Sabvav tells him the councilmen have gathered on their own instead. In other words, his meeting’s been kicked to the curb. 

“It’d be great if they, you know, told us these things,” he can’t help muttering to Kelly later.

But maybe it’s for the best because it lets Qeebal move an activity from the day after to the morning. They’d go on a private tour in one of the famous Tautzan-sponsored A.I factories. And since he’s pretty sure the rest of their stay won’t be long, Ed decides to maximize efficiency too (as the Kaylonia saying goes). He sends Claire and Bortus along with Isaac, under an order from Qeebal to take them on a trip around the city, mostly to look at medical facilities and the like. That leaves the rest of them with Qeebal and his family (minus the douchey brother), in a hovercraft on autopilot. 

It’s a very comfortable craft though, so at least they have that. Ed gets to lean back and stretch his legs while a unit with orange eyes pours Kelly and Talla wine. 

“Just water for me,” Ed tells it.

“Of course, Captain Mercer,” the unit responds, in the exact same pitch and voice as Isaac. 

“Thanks.” And Ed’s vaguely uncomfortable with the idea that these units are interchangeable.

When he looks out the window, he gets the same feeling he did when he first docked the Orville. He doesn’t like the trees. They’re too straight, too smooth, and encased in glass orbs, like things that need to be contained instead of used. Steel outnumbers nature by far, without a speck of dirt on the ground or even a drop of water not artificially filtered through a swimming pool. Ed assumes Kaylon has a love for building cities atop cities and buildings atop buildings, like an organized game of jenga with rubix cubes at the center. As far as his eyes can see, save the red holo-bridges, everything follows a scheme of steel, white, and blue, in the exact order top-down and left-right.

In fact, he can even see the electric currents under their transparent streets. But there is one thing familiar to him- floating screens advertising the next great invention or the next great book or the next great politician (their craft at the very moment, is carrying an image of Qeebal). Some things, at least, are pretty much universal.

* * *

Kaylon 1 is a crowded world. That is Claire’s first observation. Their towering structures and compartmentalized buildings make for a fascinating sight, but it hints at other problems. Because from the get-go, she can see that this particular city at least, is under construction at every corner. Red-eyed units march up and down the streets, climbing buildings, and carrying beams of steal upon their backs, always adding an extension to some skyscraper or the other. Their hovercraft travels smoothly enough, but there’s always at least two more crafts on the left and right. A unit, that Claire can only assume is from Isaac’s model (the two are impossible to tell apart) directs traffic, perched atop a holo-beam in the air.

When she peers down at the street, their craft near ground level, she sees an elderly Kaylonia female rounding a corner. Beside her, a unit with no eyes follows, its arms up to the brim with what look like perishables. The unit says something and the female laughs. She places her arm on its shoulder, and they walk on, much like mother and son. 

“Isaac,” Claire says, “that unit- does if function differently from you?”

From the driver’s seat, the robot answers, without a change in beat, “Dr. Finn, that unit is part of the one-and-five line. It is obsolete now. The difference between one-and-five and myself is that my programming allows for adaptation in speech and motor-skill. And as you have no doubt noticed, the one-and-five does not have the aesthetic of later models.”

“Aesthetic?”

“Yes, doctor. What you would consider ‘eyes’ are lights meant to indicate productivity. Units detect sight through optical sensors rather than any one lens. And to my knowledge, biologicals are more comfortable around this appearance.”

“I am not comfortable around your appearance,” Bortus says, blunt, “you still lack a nose and mouth. I am disturbed. Perhaps you should take it up with your creator.”

Claire almost laughs, but she knows the Moclan is serious. 

“Lieutenant Commander Bortus, may I ask why you have issue with my evident lack of extra orifices? I do not require a mouth to vocalize nor do I necessitate biological consumption.”

“I do not find your answer comforting.”

“It was not my intention. I was merely inquiring as to the root of your dissatisfaction. Then I can better diagnose a solution.”

Bortus looks to Claire. “I wish to stop speaking to him.”

She pats him on the shoulder with some sympathy. “I’ll take it from here, Bortus.”

Their craft turns right, and the older unit is left behind. As a building of white spirals comes into view, Claire says, “Then Isaac, enlighten me. Which part of Kaylon is your favorite?”

“Master Sabvav is a great admirer of the glass circuits and their ability to produce beverages with a temperature of-”

“I asked _you_ , actually. I can talk to your-” She wants to say employers, but that’s not quite true. “Handlers any time. I’m actually quite curious about your thought process, Isaac, as an artificial unit.”

“I am unable to answer your inquiry, Dr. Finn. I apologize.”

“There must be something you like about Kaylon? It’s your home too.”

“I am incapable of liking anything. In order to do so, I would need to understand joy and pleasure, both elements that my programming does not possess.”

“So incapable of disliking anything either?”

“Correct, Dr. Finn.”

They’re passing an institution of some kind, she thinks. And given the amount of glass drapes and holo-screens surrounding the area, Claire assumes it’s rather important. Two units descend thee marble steps from its entrance, arms holding containers labeled in the Kaylonia language.

“Then if I’m right in guessing, Isaac, you feel nothing at all?”

“I cannot calibrate emotion. However, I am capable of identifying one sensation.”

She sees Isaac tilt his head, almost-gaze falling on the two units marching by. And Claire’s not sure if she’s imagined it, but his shoulders rise by a millimeter.

“And what would that be?”

The craft comes to a stop. “Pain.”

Brow furrowed, Claire means to press on, but Isaac interrupts any sentence she has with, “Dr. Finn, Lieutenant Commander Bortus, please remain seated. I will attend you presently.”

“Isaac-”

He’s stepped out of the craft by then, door left open. Claire leans forward to see what he’s about to do, quite sure that whatever this is has nothing to do with previous orders. Isaac steps in the way of the two units, their orange a sharp contrast with his blue.

“What are you doing?” he asks in that same polite pitch, but Claire knows a demand when she sees one.

“We are disposing of Ta’ka Setval’s findings. It is no longer relevant.”

“Who gave you authorization?”

“The Bureau of Education. Step away from the path. We must carry out our directive.”

“You carry the last records of Ta’ka Setzal’s research on neurology.”

“We are aware.”

“The professor’s writings have already been deleted from the central database. Once you dispose of Ta’ka Setzal’s work, it will be removed permanently. It is a most illogical choice.”

The units step out of Isaac’s way, determined to go around him instead. “The Bureau believes this to be the most efficient choice. We are inclined to agree. Your reasoning is unsound.”

And nothing more to say, Isaac only stands and watches them leave, no trace of emotion on that blank face. The impressive part, Claire realizes, is how forlorn he’s managed to look despite having no features to speak of. It’s a good moment before Isaac returns to the craft.

“I apologize,” he tells them, “we shall resume our course.”

He grips the controls of the hovercraft but they don’t move. If Isaac were human, Claire would have thought him sulking. 

“Who’s Ta’ka Setzal?” she says.

He starts the engine. 

 “Isaac, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I am incapable of desire. It is not in my programming. Ta’ka Setzal is a deceased Kaylonia neurologist. He is no longer relevant in his field.”

The craft moves on.

* * *

“So what do you think, captain?” Qeebal asks.

“It’s impressive,” Ed says, though he doesn’t know if he means that in a good or wary way.

The A.I factory is bigger than he imagined, an infinite set of rows and columns and rotating belts. Engineers walk about with holo-pads in their hands and goggles that obscure their heads, black lab coats trailing. They don’t bother to greet the Tautzans and the Tautzans don’t bother to greet them. But it doesn’t take long for Ed to realize most of the factory workers aren’t Kaylonia- they’re robots, units, mostly orange-eyed like the one in their craft. They work in tandem, building up and disassembling their own with as much ease as folding paper planes. It’s almost hypnotizing to watch: a head comes down, wires insert, hung back up, to the next line, body zapped, limbs sealed, into the next. 

“This is one of the most productive factories on Kaylon 1,” Sabvav says, “we’re hoping to extend production onto Kaylon 2 soon.”

“But with all these units,” Kelly replies, “wouldn’t it overcrowd the cities? I’m sure they’re high in demand but when would you limit production?”

Hotalai laughs. “That’s not a cause for concern. Most of us recycle the older models so their parts integrate into the next generation of units.”

“How often do you come out with new models?” Talla asks.

“In your terms, every twenty point five years.”

Qeebal points at a line of blue-eyed heads, currently being fused to artificial throats. “These might seem familiar. Isaac was part of the latest line, though this make’s become the norm now. However, I’m going to let you and your crew in on a secret today, captain.”

“And what would that be?” Ed says, genuinely curious.

Qeebal gestures for them to follow, taking their party to the very end of a production row, where a set of steel doors remains locked. He bends so the door can scan his eye, and when it opens, the chairman steps aside for Ed’s crew to enter first. It’s a lot darker, and a lot colder for that matter, but there’s enough light for Ed to make out the outlines of bodies hanging in the air. Made of white casing rather than the steel he’d become use to seeing. 

“These are-?”

“We’re developing the newest model,” Qeebal tells him, excited, “this is twenty-and-zero-one-zero-x, the latest example of Kaylon technology, without any of the clutter or flaws of its predecessors. Perfect for biological interface and minimization- one can do the work of ten.”

He points at a porcelain head. “Sturdier too and much more functional than the ten-line.”

“Wow, um, wow,” Ed says, unsure what the right response is.

Kelly tilts her head. “When does it come out?”

Hotalai links her arm in Qeebal’s. “By the end of the year, we hope.”

“That soon?” Ed wonders what the color of its ‘eyes’ will be. “And will you be using the twenty model too, chairman?”

“Of course! I’ve been waiting on it for years.”

With some vague surprise, the captain asks, “Then what will you do with Isaac?”

“Send him back to processing, like all the others. He’ll be deactivated and disassembled with the rest of his line. He might be outdated but his core parts are still compatible with the twenty line.”

Ed tries to think of it like a toy factory. He used to collect action figures as a boy. When a new one comes out, the old one gets put away. That’s all there is to it. There are new children and new toys, and hand-me-downs. But toys usually don’t take reading tips from him. 

“What about the rest of his parts?” he presses on, and at this point, he’s sure even Kelly and Talla are looking at him like he’s asking the stupidest questions.

“We’ll burn them for fuel,” Qeebal says matter-of-factly.

And the truth is, Ed’s never put his old toys away. In hindsight, it would have saved his childhood room a lot of space but that’s besides the point. “Are- are you sure, chairman? I mean, Isaac must have been with you for years. Your family isn’t attached to him?”

“Why would we be attached to a unit?” Qeebal responds, already on his way out, “Isaac is only a servant. Nothing more.”

Ed’s about to say “can you believe this guy?” to Kelly when he notices the slight purse of her lips. He knows that look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like what?” And the sarcasm drips.

“Like I’m wearing my underwear on the outside.”

“Don’t remind me,” she says. Then, lower, _“Captain_ , we’re here to convince Tautzan’s colleagues to join the Union, not champion robot rights. Those are pieces of technology, not sad puppies. Interfering’s never done any good, has it?”

She’s not really talking about the robots. Or Ed, for that matter. This, he knows. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tells her, “I’ll drop it. So long as you do too.”

She nods, but she doesn’t say yes. Hotalai calls for them to hurry up.

* * *

The hospital (or health facility, as the Kaylonia label it) is an imposing sight. It’s impressively sterile and Claire appreciates the elevators’ ability to move horizontally as well as vertically. She’s less convinced of the practicality involving glass dividers between patients, but according to the medics, it makes for better transparency. And like the rest of the city, the building is undergoing expansion. Once more, units outnumber Kaylonia (though the head of staff has assured her that they’ve disposed of many units in the past decade). The medical units possess a uniform blue, marking them indistinguishable from Isaac, voice and all. 

But Isaac himself is still waiting in the hovercraft when Claire returns from her tour, guided by a unit that might as well have been his twin, and Bortus in tow. 

“Did you find the facility satisfying?” the robot asks as she takes her seat.

“It was illuminating,” she tells him. 

“It is logical that you find it so. Kaylon medicine is no doubt more advanced than the primitive practices utilized by yourself.”

“Don’t know if I’d say that.” Claire raises a brow, some offense taken, as if just noticing how grating Isaac’s non-fluctuating voice could be. But she doesn’t argue- she’s had enough of units blabbering about Kaylonia superiority in her ears.

“Where are you taking us now?” Bortus says.

Isaac starts the craft, taking it out slow. “I will take you back to the Tautzan residence. Master Tautzan expects your return by fifteen hundred hours. It is best we depart now.”

That’s something Claire doesn’t mind hearing. She assumes the captain will be back by then as well. Perfect time to request her return to the Orville. And by request, she means: tell him and go anyway.

Then Isaac says, with no prompting, “It will be one point five hours before Master Tautzan requires his meal. Dr. Finn, Lieutenant Commander Bortus, do you desire sustenance now?”

Claire leans back. “Are you asking if we’re hungry, Isaac?”

“Affirmative, doctor.”

“I am fine.” Bortus looks out the window.

“Are you positive, Lieutenant Commander Bortus?” Isaac presses on. “It would be prudent to let me know immediately if you must ingest nutrients. According to the Union Database, Moclans are capable of eating anything if need be.”

“What are you saying?” There’s an edge to Bortus’ tongue, and Claire’s dealt with enough couples counseling to know this is the start of an argument to come. _That’d be a sight,_ she can’t help but think.

“I can prepare your meal before the time chosen by Master Tautzan.”

“And why do you need to do that?” There’s the lead-up to the challenge.

“So you do not eat Mistress Tykal’s curtains. As a Moclan, you may not be able to restrain your biological needs.”

Bortus sucks in a breath, and Claire knows she does too. It’s almost like Isaac is _trying_ to be as offensive as possible.

“Now-” she’s about to say, but Bortus beats her to the punch. “I may be a Moclan, but at least my people do not keep _slaves._ ”

Then for the first time, Isaac twists his head to face his passengers. “Please clarify, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I believe you know exactly what I said.”

Claire finds herself looking into the unreadable glow of false eyes, though she knows Isaac’s so-called optical sensors are fully trained on Bortus now. 

“Are you insinuating that the Kaylonia use of artificial units is somehow less ethical than Moclan practices?”

“I am. And if you were as intelligent as you claimed, you would see that as well. Evidently, your masters cannot.”

“Please refrain from insulting Master Tautzan and his family.” Isaac tilts his head. “And it is to my understanding that Moclus forces its female population to undergo corrective sex surgery.”

Claire’s detecting a lot of emotion in those deadpan words. To be frank, that last comment is completely unnecessary, _petty_. And for an eerie moment, the Moclan and unit stare each other off. Bortus gulps.

Then before it can all go further, Claire stays the second officer’s hand and cries, “Boys, boys! This argument ends here. Bortus, you’re an adult Moclan. And Isaac, I’m pretty sure you’re more than a day old. The least you two could do is _not_ tear this shuttle apart.”

And she casts Bortus a look that chides, _We have families to go back to_. Even Claire wants to drive a fist up Isaac’s jaw by then, but unlike Bortus (apparently), she’s aware of who’s piloting their craft and the large percentage of them all crashing if anyone punches anyone.

Isaac turns back around. 

“My apologies, Dr. Finn.”

But Claire detects no hint of apology. She’s sure it’s not just because of that monotone either.

* * *

Quendav’s still not home when Ed and his party return to House Tautzan, slightly later than Claire and Bortus, both looking rather tired from whatever it was Isaac’s taken them to see. Hotalai immediately demands wine and Sabvav’s quick to say, “Isaac, fix up some refreshments for mother and our guests!”

“Is there anything you would like, Master Sabvav?”

“I’ll have whatever mother wants.”

And when the unit disappears, Qeebal remarks, “He clearly favors you, Sabvav.” Then to Ed, he laughs, “See? This is the kind of flaw the twenty line won’t have.”

Ed’s not sure if he likes that choice of words, but he smiles and says, “Great,” anyway. Five minutes later, Isaac comes back with a tray in his hands, plated with blue crackers (or paper, Ed can’t tell) and eight glasses of bubbling Earth wine (or a close replica) poured to an identical inch. 

“Should we wait for brother-father?” Sabvav asks his mother.

And speak of the devil, Quendav comes barging in through the Tautzan entrance. There’s a wild excitement in his eyes as he crosses over. Probably too much excitement, since he pretty much crashes into Isaac, sending the tray and its contents toppling over the ground. Hotalai gasps.

“Quendav, do you know how hard it is to remove stains!?” she snaps.

“What-” And just now, Quendav spins around, balance restored. Isaac’s on his knees, rushing to collect broken grass and crumbs. Ed’s about to go over and help when Sabvav stops him, mouthing “no need, captain.”

“You,” Quendav grumbles at the robot, “didn’t I tell you to stay out of my way?”

“I apologize, Master Quendav.”

The next person to cry out is probably Ed since he’d recognized his own voice. He has his suspicions about Isaac’s position in the household, but he hadn’t actually expected to see it happen so openly. Quendav smashes the unit’s head straight into the floor, a resounding crack splitting the marble and taking with it a piece of Isaac’s face, leaving a glimpse of circuits in the missing space.

Qeebal marches over and grabs his brother’s wrist before he can do more. “Do this outside, Quendav! You’re scaring the captain!”

“Oh? I’m scaring Captain Mercer?” 

Isaac gathers the broken plates back into their tray. As he stands up, Quendav delivers a swift kick to his heel, hard enough to knock him back down. The tray smashes again. 

“You hear that, Isaac?” he tells the unit, “we’re scaring the captain. Say you’re sorry.”

Isaac turns his gaze on Ed. “I apologize, Captain Mercer.”

“What-” Ed tells him, “he ran into you-”

Sabvav looks away with a sigh, as if flushed with secondhand embarrassment. “Captain, please ignore my brother-father. His intelligence is daunting.”

Ed truly finds it all very hard to ignore. And it’s all happened so fast that he’s not sure if hasn’t hallucinated the whole disturbing display. He’s pretty sure it’s real when he hears the sound of Quendav’s foot on Isaac’s hand. And enough is enough. If Qeebal’s not going to do anything, Ed sure as hell will.

“Hey!” Before anyone can stop him, he’s marched up to Quendav. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, _stop it._ ”

For a second, he thinks Quendav’s going to punch him too, but Qeebal’s steered his brother away by then. “I am so sorry, Captain Mercer. I haven’t any idea what’s gotten into him today-”

“Always playing the diplomat,” Quendav laughs, shoving himself off Qeebal, “since my presence disturbs the captain so much, I’ll be in my quarters.”

As Quendav leaves, Hotalai and Sabvav squat by the floor, sizing up the damage done to its fine marble.

“This won’t be a quick fix,” the female mutters.

“Isaac,” Qeebal says, eyes focused on the crack in the marble, “clean this up and repair yourself. Dinner at seventeen hundred. I want the floor fixed by dawn.”

“Of course, Master Tautzan.”

The unit stands up, one hand holding the tray and its broken contents, the other dangling by his side, fingers bent every which way. He turns and hobbles off, as if nothing’s happened.

“Just like that?” Ed says, flabbergasted, “Chairman, you’re not going to give him a break? That clearly wasn’t Isaac’s fault.”

Qeebal looks at him, puzzled. “Which one of Isaac’s appendages would you like me to break?”

“None!” And he’s about to add- why would you even consider it!?- before he stops himself.

“Maybe I should take a look at him,” Claire offers, and from the look on her face, Ed guesses she’s just as disturbed as himself.

“There’s nothing you can do for him, Dr. Finn,” Hotalai says, “or any need. Isaac’s quite capable of fixing himself up.”

Claire frowns. “Is this a common occurrence?”

Sabvav laughs. Ed doesn’t find that comforting. At all.

“And he always… repairs himself?” Kelly asks quietly, speaking up for the first time. And Ed knows that months ago, she would have been the one punching out Quendav instead. But that’s not who she wants to be anymore. Except who you are isn’t something so easily chosen.

“Usually,” Qeebal answers, “we did have to take him to an engineer once. Now, _that_ was troublesome. What happened again, dear?”

Hotalai pinches Sabvav’s cheek. “Quendav punched a hole through his head, remember? Isaac was on and off for days. And little Sabvav here cried and cried, begged us to get him fixed.”

“Mother, I was just a child!” He turns away. “This is a boring topic anyway. Come, captain- let’s speak of other things.”

Ed doesn’t want to speak about other things because his mind is still in “what the hell just happened?” mode but he’s still a guest in the Tautzan home. And his main objective is still to secure Union Membership. Anything else, he’ll have to think over some more.

From the corner of his eye, he notices Bortus still staring after where Isaac limped off.

* * *

Isaac’s limp is gone by dinner, but Ed still has to stare at his cracked face the whole time. Fortunately, the unit disappears soon after. And come nightfall, he gets to rendezvous with his crew again. The new plan is to send Claire and Bortus back on board since Ed’s pretty sure there aren’t many council meetings left (that, and he’s got a feeling the chairmen only care about the captain’s personal life). Talla could go, but he can't send her away now, not after seeing Quendav act out. Just in case Quendav for whatever reason, tries to break Ed’s arm, and nobody else is fast or considerate enough to stop him.

And when Ed asks for an update away from the ears of their hosts, he feels a slight sense of validation. After the sense of concern, of course, given the planet’s strangely high artificial-to-biological ratio (an observation corroborated by Kelly and Claire). The validation comes from Claire’s hesitant, but firm theory: “I think Isaac might be.... sentient. Maybe all of them are.”

She briefs Ed on her day, from Isaac’s impulsive stopover at the university to his bizarrely fiery spat with Bortus. There’s also his own admission of being able to feel pain. Her best summary of the unit comes down to, “The whole morning, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to punch him or hug him.”

Ed thinks that’s a very good way to put it. Either way, Claire thinks this whole question of sentience is worth asking the Kaylonia Council about because if that’s the case, then Kaylon’s successfully created life, albeit artificial. Which is no small matter, and as complicated an issue as one would expect. And Bortus’ stance on the unit changed from finding him disturbing to “pitiful”; Ed’s not sure if that’s much of an upgrade. 

He doesn’t hear much from Kelly and Talla, but Talla’s always been a thinker and Kelly… well, Ed knows she’s trying to take things one task at a time. In the meantime, Ed waits for the rest of his crew to go to sleep (some of them hopefully never having to spend another night in Qeebal’s home) before he makes his way to that supply closet, pajamas and all.

The door’s slid shut this time and a light glow from within emits a soft hum. Ed considers leaving it be. Screw that. He knocks.

“Isaac? Are you recharging in there- is um, your face fixed?”

He’s told that recharging is the equivalent of sleeping for units, so maybe Isaac’s on stand-by mode or something, and Ed’s just out here talking to himself like an idiot. The hum does pause though.

“I apologize, Captain Mercer. I cannot leave my station to greet you at this moment. To answer your inquiry, yes, my plate has been repaired and yes, I am recharging as we speak.”

“Glad to hear that.” He leans against the door. “So what happened today, does that happen every day?”

“If you are referring to Master Quendav’s outburst, it is a regular pattern.”

“And it doesn’t bother you one bit?” Wrong choice of words. So before Isaac can respond with something about programming, Ed adds, “I know you’re incapable of being uncomfortable, but it can’t be an ideal state of life, can it?”

It’s a while before Isaac responds. “I am accustomed to it.” _I’m used to it._

You shouldn’t have to be, is what Ed wants to tell him. But it’s not the right time- maybe it never will be, and it’s best not to interfere if this is the way things are. That is, unless Isaac really is sentient (and it’s not just wishful thinking on his part), in which case they would have to have a very different conversation. But what nags at Ed even more is the fact that he knows Isaac has a life-span of one year before the twenty line comes out. And he can’t tell him. Mostly because he doesn’t have the heart, and probably because Qeebal called it a “secret” for a reason.

“Your hand okay now?”

“It will be functional by dawn.”

Isaac’s not forcing him to go back to his room like the night before. So maybe he’s welcoming the captain’s presence now or maybe he’s just too distracted with his repairs.

“Isaac, my crew will be leaving soon. I mean, you’re probably aware. But before then, we won’t have many chances left to speak.” Ed huffs. “So I’ll tell you a secret of mine if you let me in on one of yours, things you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

“What is the purpose of this conversation, captain?”

“Um, bonding. Biological bonding. It’s a human thing, so you’ll have to indulge.”

“I see. Then I shall participate, captain. What is your secret?”

“You probably know how we lost our science officer. It’s all there in the database. The thing is, listen, I was devastated, but a part of me was kind of-” Saying it out loud actually makes him feel pretty bad, but the truth is Ed hasn’t told anyone, not Kelly, not Claire. And he’s been in enough diplomatic situations to know that you have to give information to take. 

“-happy. I felt guilty, so guilty, but that little part of me was relieved, and it was a terrible terrible thing to feel.”

“What reason have you to be upset, captain? You did not murder him nor did you force him to make such a choice.”

“It’s a human thing. You feel like you should have done more to save others. And that selfish part of me I was telling you about? I was worried that a part of it wished he would disappear.”

“Why would you desire such an outcome?”

“Because he was in love with Commander Grayson.”

“Then you are still in love with Commander Grayson even though your marriage is terminated? This is most intriguing.”

“I don’t know, Isaac. It’s complicated.” And at least it’s off his chest now. “So now you have to tell me your guilty secret. Only fair, huh?”

Isaac falls silent, then. And after a beat, the robot says, “You asked me what I thought of Isaac Asimov’s body of work. I had not been honest with you.”

Ed decides to let him talk, imagining that tilt of Isaac’s head.

“I did not find his writing particularly compelling. But I was fond of the story entitled ‘Robbie.’”

That’s a review Ed didn’t quite expect. “Robbie? The one with the little girl?”

“Correct, Captain Mercer.”

Ed wants to ask Isaac if everything he said about not being able to like or dislike things is a lie too, but thinks it best to go one at a time. “So you liked- _were fond_ of Robbie, even the very end of it? She grew up and let them send him away.”

“Affirmative, captain. I found it reminiscent of past experiences.”

Ed can’t tell with Isaac’s voice, but he thinks the robot’s trying to hint at some happy memory to him. But to Ed, it’s one of the saddest observations he’s ever heard. 

“Okay, I think I get it. Thanks for indulging me.” Ed removes himself from the door, and though Isaac probably can’t see it, cracks a smile. “I’ll keep this between you and me, if you do the same. That sound doable?”

“Yes, Captain Mercer.”

“Then I’ll leave you to recharge.”

“Good night, captain.”

* * *

The human is gone by the time Isaac powers himself off, body fully given to the charger connected to his being. In the five nanoseconds before his systems lower, he becomes aware as to why his programming responds so adequately to Mercer’s voice. The tone is completely different, not a pitch in common, but Isaac identifies the cause regardless-

When he hears Ed Mercer, he hears Ta’ka Setzal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope that was interesting! Talla got side-lined a bit, but that's only temporarily.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully this is worth continuing to you!
> 
> The prologue is from Isaac's pov to better set the stage, but I think the rest of the story will be from another pov. Will definitely be bringing in Gordon, LaMarr, and the Finn children soon. (Hypothetically speaking, Claire's shuttle crash never happened in this universe because Ed couldn't find a replacement pilot --> no family trip)


End file.
